Arboreal Armada
by Idlewild
Summary: In which the Doctor and Donna get attacked by a vindictive forest and the Doctor ends up with a gash in his head and a concussion. Basically lots of Doctor-whump and Donna being awesome despite herself. (Rated T for blood and some swearing.)


Running, running, this incessant running. Danger behind, danger all around. Donna wasn't made for this mode of transport – before the Doctor had swept her up in his whirlwind of brilliance, she had never run farther than to the bus. Anyone who knew her in her old life would have laughed at the notion of her spending such a frankly ridiculous amount of her time running. For all that her life was improbable and fantastic, that was surely what they would have found the hardest to believe. But here she was, dashing through a forest bent on killing her, a dozen steps behind the Doctor in his flying brown coat, fleeing the flailing branches of angry plants.

They had come to this planet for its trees. All the macroscopic life forms here were trees of one size or another; some as large as mountains, some as small as ants, some highly intelligent. And some, apparently, viciously protective of their young.

For hours, they had enjoyed a healthy dose of well-earned peace and quiet, walking in the green sunlight, taking in the view from atop a dome-shaped trunk in the shade of its enormous canopy, trading a tree growing in a crevasse in the bark some ammonia and phosphate for a few of its fruits. It had been a most deliciously relaxing day, and Donna might have known it wouldn't last.

Having parked the TARDIS at the outskirts of a dense forest, they had taken the long way around it, through a field of tiny trees which would have made any bonsai gardener green with envy, towards their one tree hill. On the way back, they had chosen the shortcut through the woods. All the trees in here were of the same species, a large, tight-knit family, and the Doctor had warned Donna about harming any of them lest they retaliate en masse. Of course, she had inevitably stumbled on a root, and one foot had landed on a shoot no bigger than her thumb. A hush had fallen over the forest, and the Doctor had looked at her, just for a split second, with a mixture of fear and excitement on his face before letting out his usual battle-cry.

'Run!'

And they did. The trees were going ballistic all around them, branches swinging madly as they tried to avenge their child. Pelting along at top speed, there was no way to avoid treading on more saplings, and their elders were growing more furious by the second. Up ahead, Donna could see the TARDIS gleaming a promising blue in the sunlight outside the copse, and she thought they might actually make it. The Doctor, certainly; he was just a few steps from the edge and WHAM! – an unexpectedly long branch got him upside the head. Donna screamed and, impossibly, increased her speed as she watched him flying in a wide arch to land right beyond the reach of the trees. She came to a sliding stop next to him, scraping her knees on the minute spruce-like things covering the area. The Doctor was on his back, one leg under the other at an awkward angle, his coat open around him in a sea of TARDIS blue lining. His eyes were closed and his face slack, but he was definitely, thankfully breathing. Panting so hard she couldn't even speak, Donna leaned over him and grabbed both his shoulders, then tightened her hold when he didn't stir. Behind them, the trees were still whipping the air, just out of reach, but Donna had all but forgotten about them as her whole world reduced to a bubble around the Doctor. She put an ear on his chest to try to tell if his hearts were going, then sat back up as he groaned and moved under her hands. His eyes flew open, full of confusion as they locked onto hers.

'Hullo,' he mumbled, 'trees… Trees!' and he tried to get up to resume fleeing.

'It's okay, we're clear.' Donna held him down, but he didn't struggle hard against her grip. Giving her a lopsided grin, he said 'Great running, Donna!' before closing his eyes again with a groan.

'Doctor?' Donna was getting really worried, but was determined not to let it show in her voice. 'Oh, come on, the TARDIS is just over there. It's not far, but I don't want to carry you. I bet I could carry you… Oi, Martian, will I have to carry you?'

Eyes still shut, the Doctor replied, 'I'm sure you could, but I'm okay. And not from Mars.' He flipped his leg out from under him and she helped him sit up. This gave him a prime view of the outraged trees and he frowned. 'Ooh, they're a bit cross, aren't they? Right then, time we were off…'

With Donna's help, he staggered to his feet, and she put his arm over her shoulders and hers around his back before they made their slow and precarious way over to their shelter. Donna unlocked the door, though why they'd bothered locking it in this place seemed a mystery to her now, as the Doctor hung like an increasingly limp rag doll beside her. They stumbled into the glowing interior and Donna aimed for the pilot's sofa as a good place to deposit her charge for a checkup. Unfortunately, before they could get more than halfway there, his legs gave out altogether and she lowered him to the floor as gently as she could. He folded his legs under him as he curled into a ball with his face on his arms, and when Donna sat down next to him, she suddenly got a good look at the back of his head. It was bleeding, quite profusely, rivulets of red reaching down the nape of his neck and staining his collar. Now that his head was bowed, the trickle had changed direction and was making its way steadily towards his arms.

Time seemed to come to a halt around Donna as her breath stuck in her throat and her hands began to shake. She had never been fond of the sight of blood, nor had she ever seen this much in one place before. It wasn't the red wetness itself that scared her so much as the implications it held, and while she normally tamped down her reaction to minor cuts and scrapes by telling herself she was being silly and putting a plaster on, this was in a completely different league. For a moment, she felt like rolling up in a ball of her own, hiding from the situation, but how could she? Someone had the take care of that wound, and that someone had to be her. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take deep breaths as she put her hands down flat on her legs to stop them shaking. 'Right, Earth girl, you can do this!' she told herself before opening her eyes to try and assess the situation.

The Doctor was doing a fairly good impression of a stone where he lay in a heap beside her. It frightened her almost worse than all the blood to see him like that, her exuberant friend who didn't normally stay still for one second. His never-ending energy sometimes annoyed her, and not until now when it had evaporated did she realise how much she had come to depend on it, how lost she felt in its absence. He was always vividly in control of even the most impossible situations; if the roles had been reversed he would have known what to do immediately. The roles should have been reversed, Donna thought bitterly. It wasn't fair that the nimble Time Lord should get hurt while the clumsy human got away unscathed. Besides, it was her fault that they had been attacked at all. She forced those thoughts away and focussed on the more constructive facet: The Doctor would know what to do. What would he do?

A poster from the lunch room at H.C. Clements flashed across her mind – In Case of Emergency, nice flowchart. Check if the injured person is conscious. She put a near-steady hand on his shoulder, shaking it slightly. 'Doctor? Can you hear me?'

'Yes,' came the muffled reply, and Donna sighed with relief.

'Good. That's good. Umm… You're bleeding, so we should do something about that. Do you have, I dunno, a medical room or something in here?' And why why why didn't she know the answer to that already? It seemed like the sort of vital information that she ought to have been given upon first moving in.

'Yes,' the Doctor repeated, 'it should be just next door.'

'"Should"?!' Donna muttered surlily, before getting back on track. 'Okay then. Let's go there, shall we?'

The Doctor raised his head off his arms to nod, then gave a pitiful moan as he pressed both hands to his forehead, elbows propped on the floor. He had started breathing heavily through his nose, his face positively ashen. Something niggled at the back of Donna's mind, like she was missing something significant. He had been hit on the back of the head, and now he appeared to have a headache on the opposite side. Obvious dizziness, maybe nausea. A cold weight settled in her stomach as the dots connected – concussion. She should have realised that sooner, but then again, what could she do about it? That was the sort of thing that had to heal on its own somehow.

A drop of blood gathered at the Doctor's earlobe, then fell to the floor only to be followed by another, and another. Circuits sparked as they dripped through the grille floor, and Donna turned her eyes away. She had to do something about that bleeding, that was step two or maybe three on the flowchart, and she didn't want to leave the Doctor here to go searching for a room that "should" be close by.

Resting her hand between his shoulder blades in what she hoped was a comforting way, she asked, 'How are you feeling?'

'Dizzy. My head hurts,' the Doctor said without looking up. It occurred to Donna that he must be in a pretty bad way to actually answer that question truthfully; normally he just said he was fine even when anyone could see that he was not. She had no idea how to deal with this aspect of him.

'Yeah, that tree thumped you pretty hard. I reckon you're a bit concussed.' The Doctor hummed in agreement, unsettling her further, and she continued, 'Do you think you could walk, though? Just next door, yeah?'

'Yeah…' he echoed, putting one hand on the floor and pushing himself into a sitting position. His other hand moved to his ear and came away red. 'Oh…' he mumbled, then raised the hand towards the back of his head.

Donna caught his arm halfway. "Don't, you'll get it infected!'

The Doctor looked at her, eyes pinched with pain and, probably, worry. 'How's it look?' he slurred.

'Like it needs a bandage,' Donna deflected, determinedly not looking. 'Now come on, Spaceman, let's get you fixed up.'

The Doctor was about to nod again but stopped himself with a wince. He reached his hand out to her, and she forced herself to ignore the blood as she took it in both her own. With mutual grunts, they got to their feet, and the Doctor leaned on Donna again, squeezing his temples with his free hand.

'Through here, is it?' Donna asked in a voice that sounded far more confident than she felt, as she led him around the console and into the nearest corridor. The Doctor was walking under his own steam now, eyes on the floor, clutching her hand like an anchor. Donna's eyes fell on a red cross on the first door they came upon, and while she was decently certain she'd not seen it there before, she was too relieved to question the serendipity.

She shouldered the door aside and sat the Doctor down on a low stretcher-like bed in the middle on the room. 'Right, then. Please tell me you have some kind of magical future technology that heals wounds.'

By way of response, the Doctor reached inside his suit and produced his sonic screwdriver.

'What?!' Donna exploded. 'Really? You might have mentioned that sooner! Bloody hell!' Then she forced herself to calm down, because the Doctor was obviously not himself right now, and besides, her shouting seemed to hurt his head. 'Sorry. Okay. Give it.'

He handed it over. 'Setting 52 to sterilise, 56 to seal,' he said in a low, level voice.

Donna fiddled with the alien settings, finally getting it right. This looked so much easier when the Doctor did it. Then she walked around to the other side of the bed to get a good angle.

'How much is it bleeding?' he asked.

Donna drew a shaky breath. 'Lots.'

'You okay?' the Doctor asked, attempting to turn towards her and changing his mind midway, jaw clenching tight.

'Fine,' Donna lied. 'Yeah. Lots.'

'You'll have to clean some off, then, or the sonic won't take very well.'

'What setting's that?' Donna asked hopefully. She could hear the smile in the Doctor's tired voice as he replied, pointing, 'Towels, that cupboard, there.'

Donna swore under her breath as she opened the door and took out a stack of white folded terry and a bottle of saline. When she turned back around, the Doctor was carefully prodding around his wound.

'Don't DO that!' she scolded, feeling herself go pale as he pulled his bloodstained fingers away.

'You'll be cleaning it anyway…' he complained, and Donna could have laughed at his childish tone if she had been freaking out a bit less. She laid the small towels on the bed, sat next to them and uncapped the bottle.

'It says it doesn't sting,' she said, not sure whom she was trying to reassure. Her hands, which had stayed more or less steady since her little breathing exercise earlier, had started to shake again even before she raised her eyes to his head, moist towel at the ready.

She pushed his copious hair carefully out of the way with one hand, trying to find the wound. She had to wash clumps of coagulated blood out of the way to do so, and when she finally saw the cut, spots of black and white started intruding upon the edges of her vision. The hand with the towel dropped into her lap as she struggled to take control. She had to do this, for the Doctor. She could do it; she would do anything for him. With a slow, deep breath, she got back to work.

The cut was deep, straight and a little over an inch long, almost parallel to the ground and continuously releasing drops of red from its lowest point. It was lined with blood in varying stages of clotting. She gently wiped it off, then switched to a fresh towel to press lightly against the gash, hoping to stop the bleeding. The Doctor gave a small hiss. 'Sorry!' Donna whispered, not trusting her voice enough for actual speech.

When she removed the towel, flecked with red, the cut just resumed bleeding as if nothing had happened, and she gave up trying to quell it. The sonic lay next to the Doctor, and she wordlessly picked it up, pointed it to his head and pressed the button. The blue light and high-pitched chirping sound had come to mean rescue to Donna, and it managed to calm her down significantly. The Doctor, however, tensed at the noise.

'There, is that enough?' she asked after passing it back and forth for a while.

'Should do it, yeah,' the Doctor confirmed. His voice was chipper but lined with pain; his head must really hurt, Donna thought ruefully. Normally, he seemed totally immune to the sonic sound waves, but these were not ordinary circumstances.

'56, was it?' she said in a faux-chipper voice of her own. She tried to change the setting one-handed, not wanting to let go of his hair now that the wound was clean. 'Sorry, can you fix it?' She reached the small tool over, and he set it instantly, handing it back. 'Thanks,' Donna said, then added, 'Cover your ears, that should help a bit.'

The Doctor surprised her by doing just that, the slope of his back radiating resignation. Donna repeated her motions from before, the stress gradually leaving her mind as she watched the cut closing layer by layer. By the time it was done, she was trembling with relief instead. She was still half surrounded by blood, but at least its source had been stopped. She let his hair fall back over what was now just a pale pink line and wiped her hands on a clean towel. 'There you go.'

'Thank you, Donna,' the Doctor said, turning all the way around this time. Donna faced away as, all of a sudden, tears started in her eyes. She sucked in a breath and held it as her face twisted. This was stupid – why was she crying now? It was over, they were fine, and behind her she could feel the bed moving as the Doctor dragged his legs up on it to sit cross-legged next to her, but she couldn't stop crying, and when he put his arm around her back she released her breath in a sob.

'Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me…' she muttered, wiping at her eyes with the towel she was holding.

'Stress release,' the Doctor said. 'Don't worry about it. You did great.'

Donna nodded, but his affirmation only made her cry harder, her face in the towel. Eventually, she got herself to focus on the Doctor's solid presence behind her, letting it calm her. Her breathing gradually returned to normal, and she dried her tears. She was still shivering, but residual shock was being replaced with pride. She had totally just healed a hole in somebody, despite being terrified, and it made her feel… strong.

Then she remembered the other injury, invisible within the Doctor's brain. She scooted to the side to look him over again. He was pallid, his eyes still looked pained, and there was blood all down his neck and jaw, as well as around his ears and temples where he had put his hands.

'How are you doing? Sonic no good against concussions?'

'Not really, no. It'll just have to –' He broke off with a sharp gasp, bowing his head and shoving a hand into the matted hair at the back. Donna stared at him, totally at sea, as he froze in that position with his eyes squeezed shut.

'Did your headache just move…?' she asked nervously.

His voice was strained when he answered, 'Yeah… it kind of ebbed before, and then…' He groaned, fingers digging into his scalp.

'Can I get you something for that?'

'Please. There are some analgesics over there,' he pointed, 'second drawer.'

Donna set about poking through the drawer, ending up just pulling the whole thing out and bringing it over to him since she had no idea what she was looking for. While she washed her hands and face and fetched a cup of water from a tap, he wiped the blood off his hands and rummaged through the drugs to select a vial of blue liquid. He downed it in one with a grimace, following it up with the water.

'Vile,' he groused.

Donna smiled at him with sympathy. 'Just like Earth medicine, then.'

'I'm nine hundred and four, and I've never had any medicine that wasn't disgusting,' he said, smiling back. It was a weak shadow of his normal smile, and it was soon drowned out by that pinched look again. Donna wished she could do something.

The Doctor scratched at the dried blood on his neck. 'I should go and have a shower,' he muttered, unfolding his legs and planting his feet on the floor. Then he bowed his head again and gripped the mattress as though he might fall off.

'You should lie down and have a rest,' Donna said firmly. 'I can clean that off if you like, I'll just tidy the place up a bit first.'

She put the drawer back in place, binned the used towels and the bloodstained bottle of briny water, and got some more clean towels off the shelf. While she was busy, the Doctor had lain down on his side, head on the raised end of the angled bed. His coat was all in a tangle behind him and he looked more than a little queasy. Donna went through the cupboard with the towels, coming up with a low bowl which looked like it might make itself useful. When she placed it next to him, he opened his eyes a slit and gave it a wry look.

'Thanks,' he said, his eyes falling shut again.

Donna thought it would really probably be a good idea for him to change out of his coat and jacket, but he didn't look up to any such energy-demanding tasks right now. Nor for her plan to clean the blood away, if she was honest. She pulled a folded blanket out from under his feet and draped it over his legs.

'Just rest for now, we can get you cleaned up later,' she said. The Doctor made a sound of agreement and misery, drawing his legs up closer to his body.

Donna's knees were stinging now that she was off the adrenaline rush and had nothing to occupy her. She had a vague memory of skinning them as she ran up to the Doctor. Her trousers rubbed against the torn skin when she moved, but she didn't want to use the sonic since the noise obviously bothered the Doctor. Instead, she picked some antibacterial wipes and plasters out of the cupboard, then sat on a chair to clean out the scrapes the old-fashioned way, covering up the worst parts. Compared to her earlier ordeal, those scratches were no trouble at all. When she had rolled her trousers down and tossed the packages, she sat back in that decently comfortable chair and saw the Doctor blearily looking at her.

'I'll be right here if you need me,' she said.

The Doctor hummed in acknowledgement. 'Don't let me fall asleep,' he mumbled. His voice sounded like he had to gather it up from somewhere very far away.

'What, in case you don't wake up?' Another hum answered her. 'Oh, that's great. Now I'm not worried at all!' she grumbled. That only got a vague shrug for an answer, but she could read the apology in it. 'It's not your fault,' she said. 'If anything, it's my fault. If I hadn't been so clumsy, you would be fine.' She expected him to refute her or tell her not to feel guilty, but he stayed silent. 'Hey, Doctor? Still with me? Don't fall asleep, you said!'

'I'm too dizzy to fall asleep,' he muttered. 'Feel like this bed's gonna chuck me off at any moment.' Donna had to lean forward to hear what he was saying, because he was speaking with a minimal amount of mouth movement – so as not to jar his head, she suspected.

'I'll make sure it doesn't,' she promised, smiling. 'How's your head? Still hurting?'

'It's better. Fine, as long as I keep still.'

'That's good. But I'm worried about that huge brain of yours. Shouldn't you get a scan or something? What if there's damage?'

'Nah, I'll be all right,' he said in a watered-down version of his usual placating voice of omniscience. 'It's not my first concussion, life I lead… Just give it a few hours and it'll pass.'

'Hours? Blimey, you really are superior! That'd take days for a human. Mind you, a blow like that would probably have killed a human… We're such wimps.'

That earned her a weak smile, and Donna was relieved to see it, short-lived though it was. Of course he'd be all right; he was always all right. Yet even as she thought this, the Doctor pressed the heel of his hand to his temple with a whine, then pushed himself up on an elbow as he made a grab for the bowl she'd given him. He didn't actually use it, just collapsed back on the bed, breathing rapidly. Sweat was beading on his pale face, and Donna couldn't bear to just sit there doing nothing. She jumped to her feet, picked up a towel and soaked it with tepid water, wringing it out over the hand basin, then took her chair over to his bed and started wiping his forehead.

'I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm sorry…' she murmured.

The towel was going a little pink as she passed it down the side of his face, but the movement and coolness seemed to soothe the Doctor. His death-grip on the bowl was relaxing, and the lines on his face smoothed out somewhat as his breathing slowed. By the time she had started in on a second towel, he looked almost asleep.

Donna stilled her movements, her thumb stroking across his cheekbone where the freckles stood out in sharp relief against his white skin. 'Hey, mate, you awake?'

'Mmm,' he confirmed. 'Talk to me, Donna.'

'What about?' Donna asked, her mind unhelpfully blank.

'Anything. You. Tell me about your life, London… Anything.'

So Donna leaned an elbow on the bed, head in hand, and talked. She told him silly anecdotes from her old life, many of them poking fun at herself, and every time that weak smile swept across his face she felt disproportionately warm inside. Her own voice was slowly lulling her to sleep, the strain of the last hour-and-a-half dragging at her wakefulness. She didn't notice her voice petering out or her head sliding down her arm to come to a rest next to the Doctor's chest.

* * *

When she woke up, Donna had a crick in her neck and was utterly disorientated. Sitting up in the chair, she felt the events of the day come crashing back into her mind. The Doctor had rolled onto his back, his face relaxed and decidedly less waxen than before, his breathing calm and even. Donna had no idea how long she had been out. Her brain was foggy, her mouth dry, and she appeared to have drooled a little on the mattress. And how had she let herself go to sleep? She was supposed to keep an eye on the Doctor! Massaging her neck with one hand, she put the other on his shoulder, patting it lightly. His eyebrows twitched and he slowly opened his eyes, turning to look at her.

'Hey…' he mumbled.

'Hey yourself. Sorry, I fell asleep.'

The Doctor regarded her with half-lidded eyes and a small smile. 'That's quite all right. You were exhausted. Can't blame you.'

'Makes one of us then. How are you feeling?'

'Like my brain's stopped throwing itself against my cranium. Trust me, you have no idea how nice it is to have an immobile brain until you've tried the alternative.' He tentatively rolled his head back and forth on the bed. 'Ohh, still a bit dizzy. Better than it was. Molto bene,' and he braced his arms behind himself to sit up.

'Oi, take it easy there!' Donna exclaimed, but he seemed to handle the change in orientation pretty well. A deep breath and a slow blink, then he was regarding her with something much closer to his normal smile than she had seen in far too long.

'Are you okay?' he asked her.

'Me? Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I be?'

'Well, you had a bit of a fright back then. Sorry about that, by the way.' He really did sound apologetic, and for some reason, even though she didn't think he had anything to be sorry for, that settled the last bit of tension in Donna's mind.

'Don't worry about me, Spaceman. I'm fine.' And she was. It had been a most harrowing experience, but now that it was nearly over she felt all the more stable for it. If she could handle that, surely she could handle anything.

The Doctor was scratching at his neck again. 'Oh god, I really need to take a shower,' he muttered, 'this is gross.' He shoved the blanket away and swung his legs over the other side of the bed. Donna bolted from her chair to hurry around to him in case he did something overly energetic. He stood slowly and took a rather wobbly step forward, the tails of his rumpled coat settling about his calves. She looped her arm around his, and he gave her a slightly sheepish smile.

'Don't mind me,' she said, grinning. 'Lead on.'

They made their way over to their bedrooms, going to opposite sides of the hall. Donna suddenly had an overwhelming need for a shower of her own; she felt incredibly grimy, and the sleeves of her cardigan were more bloody than she had previously cared to notice.

The hot water drained her muscles of all energy, and after getting into a clean change of clothes, she curled up on her bed. She'd just have a bit of a kip… and there was a smattering of knocks on her door. Somehow the hands on her bedside clock had advanced twenty-five minutes as if in the blink of an eye. She stumbled to the door to find the Doctor looking almost distressingly alert in a fresh suit, his hair still moist but perky as ever.

'Come on, Donna, you have to see this!' he enthused.

'All right, calm down,' she rasped, clearing her throat. 'Concussed, remember?'

'I'm fine. Now come on or you'll miss it!'

He all but dragged her out of the corridor, past the console and down the ramp, opening the doors with a flourish.

'How about that, hey?' he said, triumphantly.

The sun was going down behind a distant mountain tree, while two moons, one of them enormous, were rising over the horizon. They were glowing pink, as were the clouds, while the sky was a startling green – emerald at the zenith and almost yellow closer to the sun. Beams of bright orange were radiating out through the canopy, making it look as if the tree were on fire.

'Oh, but that's beautiful…' Donna whispered. If there was one thing she didn't think she would ever get used to, it was alien sunsets. They stood in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder, watching until the last rays of light had faded from the sky. The moons still lit up the landscape, giving the arboreal armada a blue tinge.

'Think they've forgiven us yet?' Donna asked.

'I wouldn't risk it…' the Doctor muttered, rubbing his temples, but he was smiling.

Donna smiled back. 'Wanna get out of here?'

'Absolutely. And this time, let's try to land somewhere –'

'– without any trees,' they said in unison, closing the doors behind them.

* * *

_**A/N:** This fic idea had been floating around in my head for a long time, and it wasn't originally meant to be this long, or anywhere near this bloody. Then some real life happened, like real life tends to do, and suddenly head wounds and blood loss were a lot more relevant to me. Who says fanfiction can't be used for processing stuff? No one, I expect. :D_

_Anyway, thank you for reading, and if you feel like reviewing I'm going to love you a little bit! :)  
_


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